


The Start of Something Beautiful

by Space_Cadet_Blues



Series: Blood and Stone [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mage Connor, Porn with Feelings, Protective Connor, werewolf Hank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Cadet_Blues/pseuds/Space_Cadet_Blues
Summary: Connor heads out to meet Hank, intrigued after their narrow escape together.He doesn't want any sort of romantic attachment. He's just here for the gold and the friendship with very excellent benefits.Or so he tells himself...----Immediate sequel to Catch and Release.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Blood and Stone [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582276
Comments: 8
Kudos: 143





	The Start of Something Beautiful

Potwin turns out to be a little further along the coast and a little more inland, where great patches of farmland begin and end on the fringes of a great forest.

Connor disembarks the back of the covered wine cart he had stowed away on, taking with him a bottle for himself. He swigs from it as he makes his way through town peering at each sign. Finally he finds himself at the door of The Golden Stag Inn. The sign above the door clatters and screeches in the wind that picks up with the approach of dark clouds overhead. Connor can smell the rain in the distance and has no intention of muddying his new boots even more.

He'd managed to swindle some fine clothing, comfortable black trousers and a soft black tunic with silver buttons, topped off with a matching fur trimmed cloak. His boots are soft treated leather and he intends to keep them as spotless as possible.

Fixing his hair somewhat nervously he enters the tavern, immediately wrinkling his nose at the smell and noise. Drunk townsfolk dance and laugh and cheer near the fire pit as a small band plays something table thumpingly catchy. 

He has to double take when a grubby looking middle-aged man chases a large pig past him and out into the street. Connor swigs unhappily from his bottle and glances around. No sign of Hank. His heart sinks in his chest. What if he'd missed him? What if Hank had decided not to bother?

He weaves in and out of drunken strangers and approaches the burley looking barmaid. 

"Excuse me. I'm looking for Hank of Ironfort. Large fellow, silver hair.” _Rather handsome_.

"Are you Connor?"

Connor nods.

"He's expecting you. Up the stairs, the room at the end of the hall on the left."

Connor brightens immediately. "Thank you." 

He makes his way up, feeling a little skittish. When he gets to the door he pauses.

Why is he so enthralled by this man? He hasn't been enthralled by anyone in years and now suddenly thoughts of Hank are what fills his brain. He's excited to see him again though it's only been three days and before that Hank was a stranger. How embarrassing.

The door opens suddenly, startling him. He peers up into Hank's face and he can feel his own cheeks reddening by the second. Hank looks good. Dressed in a white tunic open enough to show some of his chest. His trousers look new too. His hair is pulled back and his beard looks to be trimmed, though he does look a little more tired than the day Connor met him. Must be something to do with the transformation... Connor wants to touch his face. He hiccups.

"... You're spilling wine."

"Wha- oh shit." Connor rights the bottle in his hand and pauses before holding it out in offering.

Hank snorts a laugh. "Why don't you come in," he says, taking the bottle from Connor, though Connor suspects it's to keep him from making a further fool of himself.  
Connor follows him inside, closing the door behind himself. 

"Well you look better," Hank laughs, "I mean you're not covered in shit this time." He swigs from the bottle in his hand and Connor can't stay still anymore.

He advances on Hank and pulls him into a kiss, tasting the fruity notes of the alcohol on Hank's tongue. Hank winds an arm around his waist and Connor can feel him smiling, which makes him whine. He shouldn't miss someone who was essentially a stranger not four nights ago.

The kiss ends and Connor parts from him reluctantly, separating with small tender pecks until the realisation he is being too affectionate makes him extract himself gently from Hank's hold on his waist.

He crosses his arms and inspects the room.

"Tell me Hank. Why are we in this place?" 

"A job."

"Pig wrestling? Bet you'd be good at that." Connor squeezes his bicep on the way past him as he walks over to the window and Hank gives him a look.

"Hunting, actually. There's a nest of sirens that have moved too far inland, I picked up a contract to clear them out." 

"I'm game if I get a cut, what's the pay?"

He must look too eager because Hank laughs.

"Don't get too excited, they're villagers. They don't have much. 200 gold in total and that's the whole village banding together. If you pull your weight, that's 100 each."

“ _If_? Do you not trust me Hank?" Connor asks, amused. True he doesn't like to put too much effort into anything unless he's getting something out of it, but there's gold to be made and if he's working with Hank he’ll do his very best.

"I trust you. To an extent. But this job will prove whether or not I can trust you fully." 

Connor nods. He understands. They've known each other not even a full day yet. Working together will be the test... The test for what, Connor isn't sure.

Will they pick up contracts together? Travel together? Connor is mildly disturbed to realise that after a decade and a half of being alone, he's actually eager to potentially spend a long unspecified amount of time traveling with someone.

Hank sighs. "Look, I'm sorry if I offended you or-"

"No, it's fine. We don't know each other. But I'd like to get to know you Hank. Professionally and..." He flushes, turning back toward the grubby pane, "we'll see about the rest."

"Says the man who showed up on my doorstep with a bottle of wine and then kissed me-" 

"Alright that's quite enough." 

Hank laughs good-naturedly and Connor glances his way, catching a grin on his face.  
"I'd ask if you managed to get yourself a horse, but since you showed up with alcohol and not a speck of mud on those fine clothes of yours, I assume that 'no' is the answer."

"You'd be correct. Looks like we'll be sharing a saddle once again." Connor tilts his head a little. "I'll be sure to hang on extra _tight_." He winks.

Hank rolls his eyes but smiles, sipping from the wine bottle again.

***

They set off a few hours out from sunset to catch the sirens at their most active. Connor, true to his word, clings to Hank tightly, enjoying being pressed against the warm bulk of him perhaps a little too much. He smells of sword oils and clean sweat and Connor can't help but find it all very comforting. It at least takes his mind off of the mud and dirty rainwater being flicked up at him as Hank’s horse gallops along the lane. 

When they draw closer to the location Hank slows the horse to a trot, approaching carefully.

"Why would they be this far inland?" Connor asks. "No unsuspecting sailors to munch on out here."

"I suspect, and I hope I'm wrong, something bigger may have moved in on their territory by the coast. Maybe a wyvern. Or they've figured out it's just easier to pick off unsuspecting farm hands. Both are equally as likely."

"Hm, I'd disagree. One scenario is definitely more likely than the other. Humans are dreadfully susceptible to the temptation of pleasure. Easy pickings." 

"Fair point. You're not much different Connor, should I be worried?"

"Do you think their ethereal charm would work on someone such as myself?" 

"I guess we'll find out."

Hank tugs on the reigns and the horse stops. In the distance Connor can see them, three by his count, encircling the ruins of an old church. Their screeches carrying on the wind. 

The horse paws the ground, ears flicking back nervously.

"So, what's your plan if one of those things starts to sing?" 

Hank digs around inside the pocket of his coat procuring four little pieces of cloth. 

"Stuff these in your ears."

Connor makes a face. "... Somehow I don't think that's going to work."

Hank frowns. "It will. I’ve done this before. It takes time for a siren’s mesmer to work anyway, we'll have dispatched the nest by then."

"Mm. Alright."

Connor takes two of the little pieces of cloth and pockets them. With a flick of his hand he summons a silver bow with expensive detailing and a back quiver filled with arrows. "I'll go high, ground the ones that are flying and you take them out," he says, securing the straps of the quiver.

Hank hums in amusement. "Calling the shots are you?"

"Yes, since you're apparently going into the textile business."

Hank rolls his eyes. “As I said, it’s worked for me before.”

“Right.”

Connor slips off of the horse and reaches behind him to check the number of arrows he has. 

Hank does a double take. "Where the fuck did you get those from?" 

"A hidden cavity."

"Oh gods."

Connor winks and starts off toward the church. "Leave the horse."

"Quit telling me how to do my job!"

"Then do your job!" 

***

They approach the church on foot as swiftly and as silently as possible taking cover in the tall grass. 

The structure is a hollowed out shell, with only the ground floor stone walls and the clock tower mostly remaining, with debris scattered here and there. 

Connor circles the ruin to find a way into the bell tower to get to a good vantage point, and Hank creeps into what would have once been the church hall through a crumbling mossy hole in the wall. 

Connor checks that his ears are sufficiently plugged and climbs into the bell tower through a ground floor window. The sirens shriek and call to one another, the sound of their powerful wings beating overhead echoing down through the structure as Connor ascends the spiral stone staircase. 

The top of the tower is mostly destroyed, with a gaping hole in the wall overlooking the rest of the ruin, and another hole in the ceiling. In the corner he notices a nest of eggs. He glances at it, considering pocketing them later for potion brewing. But that can wait. When he turns back to get himself in position he peers out of the hole and spots Hank keeping to the shadows and using the debris to keep himself hidden.

Connor checks the positions of all three sirens. There’s one above him that he can’t see but can hear. The other two are circling above the main body of the church. Connor takes an arrow and loads his bow, pulling back the string. He takes aim at one of the two in his line of sight and tracks it, holding his breath before releasing. The siren he was aiming for swoops low, dodging the arrow completely. The creature spots Hank in its dive and makes a beeline for him. Connor barely has time to fire off another arrow.

The shot lands hitting the siren in the shoulder, knocking it out of the air and into the far wall with a crunch of brick and bone, but not before Hank is knocked to the ground.

"Hank!" 

Connor feels the approach of another of the creatures behind him and turns. It’s climbing through the hole in the ceiling, mouth opening in a wail that rattles Connor’s bones. Clawed fingers outstretched.

He thrusts out his palm before it can grab him. " _Incendiary_." 

The siren is blast backwards, erupting into flames.

It screams in agony writhing, flapping and crawling away, setting the nest site on fire. Connor tries not to let his guilt best him. These creatures will kill more innocent people. This is the only way to ensure that doesn’t happen. 

He shoulders his bow and grabs the slippery edge of the hole in the wall, swinging himself outwards. Carefully he starts to climb down the outside of the tower. Using thick ropes of ivy and jutting stone for purchase. 

His heart hammers with fear as flames crackle and roar above him. He's not sure if Hank is okay. 

He slips.

Catches himself. 

And through the material in his ears he hears a song, sweet and light, carrying on the wind.

He cranes his neck round to spot Hank standing in the open centre of the ruin, nothing protecting his ears anymore. Perched on the rubble in front of him, a beautiful young woman with a fish-like tail of gleaming azure scales sings to him, hand outstretched. Hank begins to walk towards her.

"Hank! Hank you... You _moron_!" 

Connor descends as fast as he can, trying not to slip again on the damp stone. Hank is counting on him.

A few feet from the ground he turns and throws himself off the wall and into the grass, lurching to his feet. Hank is almost within reach of the siren. Its eyes glinting mad and predatory in the light of the flaming bell tower.

Connor won’t make it to him in time. Won’t get off a shot in time. So Connor opens his mouth, and sings. 

The first few notes are low and soft but quickly build to something powerful drowning out the siren's call. 

The creature snaps its head to him, furious. Connor continues to sing, slowly taking his bow in hand and drawing an arrow from his quiver.

Hank turns to face Connor slowly, blue eyes glassy and unseeing. 

Connor's song is haunting, an enticing melody echoing about the ancient space and muting all other sounds. 

Slowly Hank walks towards him, eyes becoming clearer by the second.

The siren screeches, beautiful face morphing, its mouth distending into a gaping maw full of razor sharp teeth, eyes becoming a sickly yellow. It launches itself at Hank. 

Hank turns, heavy silver sword cutting through the air.

He slices the creature in half before it can sink its claws into him, splattering himself and Connor in blood.

"Hank," Connor says, voice quivering. Adrenaline making him shake. "Hank." 

Hank drops his sword and walks over to him, pulling him into a hug.

Connor thumps a fist against Hank's chest, before pulling out of his grip. "I told you! I told you it wouldn't work!"

"Well, it would of, but I got hit in the head and the cloth just kind of, fell out." Hank chuckles sheepishly.

"It _fell out_??"

Connor yanks out his own two pieces of cloth and takes Hank's face in his hands. 

"Listen here, you fool, don't take your eyes off me. Understand? If you ever look at anyone like that again, man or beast, I'll burn this whole country to the ground!"

Hank stars at him, open mouthed and Connor's own words settle on his ears. 

He burns red and releases Hank clamping a hand over his mouth. 

"I didn't mean that!"

Hank grins and Connor pushes at him. 

"Let's just get out of here and collect our gold." 

"Sure," Hank says a small grin still on his face.

Connor attempts to walk past him but Hank pulls him back by the forearm.

His eyes are warm and twinkling with something that scares Connor. It's something soft. Something he isn't allowed to have. 

"Just as soon as you tell me again what you'll do if I don't look at only you."

His words aren't mocking but Connor can't stand it all the same. 

"Shut up Hank-"

Hank kisses him, and he has no choice but to melt into it. Hank tastes of iron and blood and smoke and it's still the sweetest thing Connor has ever tasted.

***

Hank cuts off the heads of the two salvageable siren corpses and burns the remaining nests, taking a single egg as further proof. 

It shouldn't be romantic to watch Hank slice into the rancid flesh of a dead monster but Connor is harder than he has ever been in his life.

The ride back is uncomfortable and filled with unbearable tension. Connor resists the urge to tell Hank to pull over and bend him over a tree stump the entire journey.

Hank exchanges the trophies with the villagers for their fee and when Hank hands Connor a small bag full of gold that only excites him more.

Once they are back in Hank's room at the Inn Connor drops his belongings and launches himself at Hank who hoists him up by his ass and holds him effortlessly as Connor devours his mouth.

"Get your clothes off Hank," Connor demands, tugging at his tunic. 

"I would but you're all over me."

"Can't you multitask?" 

"Shut up." 

Hank kisses him quiet before dumping him unceremoniously onto the bed.

There's a flurry of movement while they both hurriedly strip themselves bare. Connor gets stuck in his tunic but Hank is there to rip it off of him sending buttons flying. 

Connor bites Hank’s lip sharply as Hank tries to kiss him once more. "I fucking _liked_ that one."

"I'll buy you another one you spoilt fucking brat," Hank growls and Connor grins before getting kissed again. It's rough and passionate and perfect and Connor sincerely hopes that Hank fucks like he kisses.

Hank presses him flat onto the bed and crawls over him, reassuring and powerful. Connor moans at the feel of skin on skin and slides a hand between them, wrapping it around Hank's length and feeling him harden in his grip as he gives him a slow teasing pump from root to tip.

He's huge and Connor realises mere memory does not do his size justice. 

"God's Hank, seriously, how do you wield this thing huh?" 

"With precision and care," Hank chuckles.

"Good answer, because you're going to have to seriously take exceptional care of my ass."

Hank pecks a kiss to his lips and hums in amusement. "I think you're being dramatic. But it's very flattering." 

Connor grazes his fingers along the underside of Hank's monstrous cock, feeling it twitch as he swipes his thumb over the tip. Hank grunts softly.

"Tease."

"Yes. Have you met me?"

"I have. Fortunately."

"Fortunately?"

"Mm. I'm glad for it," Hank says softly and Connor looks away, heat rising in his cheeks.

"Hey," Hank says and Connor turns his head back only for Hank to kiss him. 

Connor's head is swimming by the time Hank is mouthing his way down his body, whiskery kisses on his neck then his shoulder. His nipples are hard and sensitive and he sighs in delight when Hank's lips graze one, then seal around it. Hank's tongue swirls and flicks and Connor trembles, threading his hands into that wild mane of silver hair.

Hank sucks and Connor's breath leaves him in a high pitched whine. His legs brush against Hank's and his stomach muscles flutter at the sensation that shoots straight to his cock.

He's throbbing and unbearably hard by the time Hank's fingers brush his chest and toy with the other peaked nub. 

" _Hank_ ~" he whimpers, voice momentarily lost for any other words.

Hank lowers his hips just enough for their cocks to brush together. But the friction is not enough, it's maddening. Connor presses his own hips upwards, desperate for that hot velvet skin to be pressed properly against his.

Hank chuckles at his efforts, breath hitting cooling saliva, making Connor's skin tingle. 

"I-I think you're the tease, in this situation." 

"I guess you're right," Hank says, voice low and sweet.

Hank's fingers pinch and rub and Connor groans, writhing under him. Connor lowers one hand to push it between them but Hank grabs it, pinning it to the bed. 

"Not yet."

He meets Connor's eyes as he takes both of Connor's wrists and pins them either side of his head. There's a question there. _Is this okay_?

Connor swallows hard and nods once.

Hank lowers his head again and drags his tongue over one nipple, sucking gently before moving on to the other. He shifts his weight and his thick cock brushes the underside of Connor's balls and then the sticky head is pressing loosely against his hole.

Connor knows it's just more teasing, that Hank would never be so cruel as to push into him without foreplay. But Hank is cruel enough to make him lay here and reduce him to a shivering teary eyed mess before he finally gives Connor his cock. 

It's a hunch he has.

And he does sob, eventually, when his nipples are pink and raw and so sensitive that when Hank blows on them he almost topples over the edge, cock flushed and leaking, balls pulled up tight, eyes wet. 

"Hank, oh, _Hank_."

Hank shushes him and kisses him gently, letting go of his wrists so that Connor can wrap his arms around him. 

"Okay?" Hank whispers.

"Yes," Connor says, brushing Hank's hair behind his ears.

Hank turns his head to kiss Connor’s wrist where his pulse beats firm and strong and something about it is too tender. Connor tries to recapture some control, gently pushing Hank up and back to sit, like the first time they ended up in bed together.

Connor climbs into his lap and flicks his wrist, summoning a small corked vial into his hand.

Hank peers at the object in his palm and raises an eyebrow.

"Scented oil." 

Hank chuckles. "I don't want to know how you're able to specifically summon that."

"I'm always prepared," Connor says with a wink. 

He takes Hank's dominant hand and the vial floats into the air, uncorking with a pop. It tips, drizzling oil onto Hank's fingers and then Connor's palm as he holds out his own hand.  
Hank smooths the substance between his fingers and watches as the vial corks itself and floats to land on the bedside table. 

"That's a neat trick." 

"It’s quite handy." Connor wraps his slick hand around Hank's cock and smiles at the breath Hank sucks between his teeth. "Now why don't you show me some neat tricks of your own Hank."

"With pleasure sweetheart."

Connor would object to being called such a thing but two of Hank's fingers are sliding between his cheeks and prying him open.  
Hank's other hand is cupping his face, thumb pressing against his bottom lip. Connor sucks on it as one of Hank's thick fingers pushes into him down to the second knuckle. He moans, body trembling for a moment.

Hank's eyes are dark and watchful when Connor meets his gaze and Connor melts. Wanting more than anything else in the world to please this man.

His grip becomes firmer as he coats Hank's cock in oil. His fingers rub in sensitive places and Hank is soon breathing hot and heavy, removing his thumb from Connor's mouth to kiss him.

The drag of Hank's finger on his rim is enough to get him close again and he almost loses it when Hank pushes deep enough to graze his prostate. 

Hank gently grips his jaw. 

"Not yet."

Connor whines and holds himself back, using magic to prevent himself from finishing. The result is the most intensely pleasant torture. Pleasure builds with nowhere to go keeping him on the edge.

Hank presses another finger into him and the stretch has him writhing, stroking Hank faster.

With his free hand he guides Hank's to his throat. Hank doesn't squeeze but he holds, firmly. Watching Connor struggle not to fall apart.

Hank keeps going until Connor is sobbing again, crying out softly each time Hank catches his sweet spot. When Hank is satisfied he removes his fingers abruptly making Connor whimper at the loss. Hank’s palm comes down gently on one cheek, giving him a little slap. 

"Oh _shit_ , harder."

"Yeah?" Hank asks, and Connor simultaneously wants to smack the smug look off his face and kiss him.

Hank slaps him again and Connor knows this time he's left a mark, the sting of it knifes through him amplifying the pleasure. 

"Again." 

Hank complies and Connor gasps for breath, eyes pinched shut.

"Fuck me Hank." Connor meets his gaze again desperately, pupils blown wide, his hand a blur on Hank's cock.

Hank lets go of his throat and pushes him down onto his back. Connor's hands fly to hook under his knees as he lifts them, spreading his legs, tilting his hips and leaving himself open for Hank. His breathing is heavy, skin shining with sweat in the lamplight.

Hank smooths a hand over his belly with quivers at the touch. Connor moans, pretty cock giving a half hearted twitch. 

Hank takes sympathy and palms him gently, making Connor whine and clench up around nothing.

"You're so pretty," Hank murmurs taking his time admiring him. 

"Not an ornament Hank, need you to do more than lightly touch me."

Hank leans over and kisses him, which was actually not something Connor was expecting. He moans at the sweetness of it and tries to keep himself relaxed as Hank moves into position.

There's blunt pressure at his entrance and then Hank is sinking into him. Connor can almost count the inches. He's thick and long and Connor worries for a moment that he won't fit. But then he does, little by little, inch by inch.

Hank pets a hand through his hair and Connor doesn't know if Hank is trying to reassure Connor or himself. It's a soft gesture and Connor isn't used to it. But ultimately he decides it's not unpleasant.  
Once Hank is balls deep inside him Connor feels slightly overwhelmed. He can bet that if he places his hand on his stomach he'll be able to feel Hank there. He's stuffed so full. He squeezes experimentally, drawing a soft sudden groan out of Hank.

"Give me a minute."

Give _you_ a minute?" Connor laughs, repeating the motion. 

Hank closes his eyes at the sensation. "Connor."

"That feel good?" Connor grins, laughing even more.

Hank presses his hips forward and that steals Connor's breath from him. He grabs onto Hank's shoulders, nails biting into his skin. 

"Oh _gods_ ," Connor gasps.

It's Hank's turn to laugh now, nuzzling at his jaw.

When Hank starts to move it's slower and more tender than Connor would have anticipated. Hank rocks into Connor gently and Connor moves with him, taking him deep on every thrust.

Connor traces the scars on Hank's back, his fingers finding where the texture of skin differs. He kisses Hank for every one that he finds.

Some feel worse than others, particularly four gashes that start between Hank's shoulder blades and travel up to his left shoulder. Claw marks. Old. Hank takes his arm and brings Connor's hand to his mouth to kiss it. Evidently not wanting Connor to touch that particular mark.

Hank still doesn't know that he knows. It doesn't make a difference to Connor, he’s not afraid of what Hank is. But it's likely something that Hank has kept to himself for a long time now. To protect himself and those around him. Connor wonders how long he's been on his own. Changing and hoping that no one crosses his path. 

Connor holds onto him tightly, burying his face in his shoulder. Silently he vows to help him, no matter what the cost. To make sure that Hank isn't alone anymore.

"Connor."

"Mm?"

"This okay?" Hank asks, eyes full of concern when Connor relaxes back to look at him. 

Connor realises he must have gone very quiet and touches Hank's cheek.

"It's been a while since... Since someone took it slow with me. You're perfect Hank." 

Hank smiles, recognising his sincerity, though his eyes are now a little sad, perhaps at the thought that no one has treated Connor with such care in a while. But now isn't the time for _that_ conversation. Connor is relieved when he says: "I'll remind you, you said that later. 'perfect.'" 

"Oh you will not. I'll make you forget." Connor threatens. 

"Don't you dare." Hank says before kissing him. Connor feels his heart flutter. "I want to remember this."

Connor swallows hard and covers his eyes with his forearm. "I've changed my mind. Get on with it will you. I have gold to count."

Hank laughs and pulls his arm away to kiss him some more and Connor thinks that this is the most he's probably kissed anyone.

Hank doesn't stop being tender but does opt for a position change. One that frightens Connor for reasons he can't discern. Perhaps because like this, Hank is solely responsible for his pleasure.

Tucked up behind Connor with his arms around him while they lay on their sides. Connor has a leg hitched over Hank's thigh and he tips his head back with a gasp as Hank re-enters him.

His thighs tremble as Hank puts a little more power behind the shove of his hips, and when Hank's hand wraps around his cock Connor sobs, It feels too good. Reaching back he tangles a hand into Hank's damp hair, while the other grips the sheets almost tearing holes in the material.

"Hank, I'm going to come," he moans. 

"Do it baby," Hank murmurs into his neck, stroking him off in firm pulls.

Hank thrusts up into him, faster and harder, and the sounds he makes set all of Connor burning. Hearing Hank enjoy himself is a joy in itself. He can't hold it back anymore. With a soft cry he climaxes, and Hank holds him steady as he trembles, keeping up a punishing rhythm.

"Come inside me," Connor murmurs as Hank stops pumping him to hold onto his shivering hip. It's a want born of arousal and also of the need for intimacy. He wants Hank, on him, in him, for as long as possible. "Please, please."

Hank grunts, breath stuttering. He stops suddenly and then gently pumps his cock in and out of Connor. "Oh, Connor. _Fuck_."

Connor feels Hank pulse inside of him, feels the hard thud of his heartbeat. He groans, satisfied. "Yes, Hank. Mm."

Hank buries his face in Connor's hair, breathing hard. Connor lays limp with his eyes closed. Processing. This was... Nice... Too nice.

When Hank pulls out it's unpleasant. Connor hates the feeling of being suddenly empty, but he does like the feeling of Hank's hungry eyes on him when Hank's come slides out to wet the backs of his thighs. Hank’s fingers part his cheeks and Connor grunts in amusement. 

"Pervert," Connor says, peering over his shoulder.

Hank gives his ass a little slap making him groan. He rolls onto his front and one of Hank’s warm hands massages firm little circles into his lower back. 

When Connor glances at him his gaze is warm. Comforting. Trained on where he is massaging Connor.

"Hank... Don't make me fall for you," Connor says. "It would be inconvenient."

"Am I that good?"

"Hm. I'll never tell."


End file.
